


In Valhalla

by Thunderfire69



Series: Post-Endgame [1]
Category: Avengers: Endgame - Fandom
Genre: Bi Loki, Canon-Compliant, Fix-It, LGBT Themes, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Post-Endgame, Valhalla, bi tony stark, canon character death, norse myths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 00:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18727657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunderfire69/pseuds/Thunderfire69
Summary: ENDGAME SPOILERS!!!When Tony let go, he wasn’t expecting to ever think again, or even see. So it was with a shock that he slowly blinked open his eyes to what was quite possibly the shiniest place he’d ever seen. Gold and inlaid pearl flared at him from every direction, silver tiles lay under him and the cool chill of the place seeped into his bones.He sat up, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to make sense of it. He’d been sure he’d died, he’d felt the breath leave his lungs, heard the sobs of the people he knew and loved. He looked around, confused, and pushed himself to his feet.-OR-Tony dies. And then finds himself in Valhalla. There he finds someone he never thought he’d find ever again.





	In Valhalla

It certainly wasn’t the way Tony had wanted to go out. If he was honest, he wanted to see Morgan grow up; hell, he even wanted to see her married (which was a big thing for him to admit, since he’d been adamant from the beginning about hunting down any boy, girl or person who ever hurt his daughter). 

 

Peter crying and saying over and over that they’d won tore at Tony’s failing heart. How broken Pepper’s voice sounded as she told Tony he could rest. He didn’t want to leave them; he wanted to give Peter another hug, tell him he loved him. He wanted to hold Morgan in his arms again, and scold her for playing with the rescue suit he made for Pepper. 

 

He wanted to try and make things right with Steve, even if their friendship could never be the same again. He wanted to get to know Scott, who he’d only ever fought against. He wanted to learn how Wakanda was so advanced, and possibly steal some vibranium right from under the king’s nose (okay, maybe he was kidding about that part). He even wanted to argue with the stupid, snarky sorcerer Stephen Strange again, which would sound odd if Tony wasn’t dying.

 

But there was nothing he could do. Pepper told him he could rest, and Tony was too weak and powerless to do anything but obey. He stopped struggling, stopped fighting to stay awake and present and  _ there _ . He felt himself fade away, inky blackness claiming him, and in the final second of consciousness he had, he felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of relief and peace.

 

He’d died for the universe, and for everyone in it. For his family, Pepper and Morgan and Peter and Rhodey. For his close friends, the Avengers and the Guardians and all the others. And, of course, for all those he didn’t know; those with families of their own, unborn children, people whose stories were yet to be told. 

 

For planets upon planets of civilisations. For animals, people, aliens and more. For every being big and small, living and dead and soon to be living. For the entire freaking universe and everyone in it.

 

When Tony let go, he wasn’t expecting to ever think again, or even see. So it was with a shock that he slowly blinked open his eyes to what was quite possibly the shiniest place he’d ever seen. Gold and inlaid pearl flared at him from every direction, silver tiles lay under him and the cool chill of the place seeped into his bones.

 

He sat up, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to make sense of it. He’d been sure he’d died, he’d felt the breath leave his lungs, heard the sobs of the people he knew and loved. He looked around, confused, and pushed himself to his feet. 

 

It was a place unlike any other he’d set foot in, more extravagant than even Wakanda, but void of any technology of any kind, advanced or not. The glare of the sunlight off of the gold and silver and the inlaid pearl and gemstones was blinding, making Tony wonder where the hell his glasses had gone. This thought made him glance down at his hands, finding the gauntlet to be gone, along with his wedding ring, and any jewellery he’d been wearing.

 

The clothes he wore were white, void of anything, no logos, nothing at all. Something told him these  _ weren’t  _ the clothes he was buried in. He got the sense he was dressed up to be able to easily be told apart, a newcomer into this place. Footsteps behind him made him turn, and his eyes fell upon what he could only describe as a bellhop.

 

“Welcome, welcome!” The stranger was tall, almost intimidatingly so, and he was dark skinned, his eyes an odd, unnerving gold, but he was smiling at Tony like he’d won the lottery and that instantly made the genius take a liking to him. “I can’t believe Valhalla is lucky enough to play host to  _ the  _ Tony Stark!”

 

“Valhalla? Like, in Norse Myths?” As soon as he asked, Tony felt stupid; Thor and Loki were real enough, so why not Valhalla?

 

“Exactly!” The bellhop pointed at Tony as if he’d just guessed the right answer to a million dollar question, which told Tony he was the first to ever actually know where the hell he was. “Now come on, let me show you to your room.”

 

Tony hurried to catch up as the bellhop began a swift pace down the long hall Tony had awoken in. “Thor told me Ragnarok had already happened.”

 

“Correct,” the bellhop said with a small nod.

 

“Then why is Valhalla still here? Isn’t this place meant to house Odin’s Warriors ready for Ragnarok?”

 

“Correct again,” the bellhop replied, smiling at Tony. “You really know your Norse myths. But since Ragnarok has passed, this has basically become a kind of heaven to all warriors. A place to live out the rest of eternity in peace.”

 

Tony stared at him for a moment. “You lost me at heaven. I don’t believe in afterlives- hell, I’m probably just unconscious and I’m going to wake up any minute missing an arm with Pepper chewing me out for scaring her half to death.”

 

“I can assure you that you’re dead, Tony Stark,” he replied, the grin fading from his face. 

 

“Why should I trust you?” Tony asked the bellhop. “I don’t even know your goddamn  _ name _ .”

 

“Oh! Allow me to introduce myself!” The bellhop offered Tony his hand to shake. “I’m Heimdall.”

 

Tony cautiously took his hand, shaking it slowly. “Aren’t you meant to be guarding the Bifrost?”

 

“Thanos,” Heimdall said with a small shrug. “Got put on duty here. I don’t mind it much.”

 

“Ah.” Tony paused. “So if you’re Heimdall… I guess you saw me die.”

 

“Correct again!” Heimdall beamed at him, then stopped in front of one of the many doors that lined the hall they were walking down. “Here we are. Room 605, level 14,000,000.”

 

“14,000,605,” Tony muttered with a small grin.

 

“I’ll let you get changed into something more comfortable,” Heimdall said, nodding at the room. “Then I have instructions to bring you up to Valhalla’s Ruler.”

 

Tony didn’t even think to ask who this was. He simply nodded, thanked Heimdall and opened the door to what was possibly the most beautiful room he’d ever been in. There was machinery and tools in one corner, strewn across a workbench, along vibranium tech, the most luxurious bed Tony had ever laid eyes on and a colour scheme of red and gold that made his heart sing.

 

The room was so  _ him,  _ representing all he was and all he stood for. An arc reactor mosaic in the centre of the floor of the room. A model of his gauntlet with the Infinity Stones in it sat upon a shelf on display. His life, laid out in this room. Photos of his friends, family; child Tony in one, when he was barely a few months old, and Peter and Tony when Peter finally got his internship in the next.

 

He instantly felt so at home, yet all the memories resurfacing made him want to cry. His eyes fell upon a photo that must have been taken after his death, a photo of Peter playing with Morgan, the two of them laughing. Peter looked like he’d fitted into the role of older brother to Morgan so, so easily, and Tony felt his eyes begin to tear up. He hurriedly wiped at them, and turned hastily to open the wardrobe in his room.

 

Inside he found suits, in so many different colours and styles, along with casual clothes, all ones he would have worn when he was alive, others so out of fashion that he couldn’t have gotten a hold of them, no matter how hard he’d tried. He quickly chose a white suit, which was something he hadn’t worn in a long time, and on a whim chose a tie that was the colours of the bi flag. It felt fitting, and since he was dead, Tony figured he could truly be himself without fear. After all, it’s not like he could die again.

 

It didn’t take him long to get changed, and he exited his room as quickly as possible, not allowing himself to look at the photos again; he didn’t want to cry in front of whoever this “Ruler of Valhalla” was. Heimdall nodded approvingly at his choice of clothing.

 

“He’ll like that,” the all-seeing warrior said, gesturing to Tony’s bi-flag-coloured tie. Tony glanced down at the tie, wondering if the fact that this Ruler would like it was some sort of clue, and maybe Heimdall would give him another hint. But the all-seeing warrior didn’t say anything else, simply turned and began to walk further down the hall. Tony had the wisdom to follow him.

 

The hall was long, and Tony was thankful that they stepped into an elevator at the end. He really didn’t want to have to walk up or down any stairs, especially not in a white suit. They travelled upwards in silence, Tony fidgeting slightly. He hadn’t felt nervous for a long time, but something in him wanted to make a good impression on the Ruler of Valhalla. Or at least look decent in front of him. Or something.

 

Finally the elevator shuddered to a stop. The door slowly, painfully slowly, opened. Heimdall gestured for Tony to get out, and the genius gave him a glance that clearly read,  _ You’re not coming? _

 

“He wants to see you alone,” Heimdall said quietly, then gave Tony a small wave in farewell. Swallowing, Tony stepped out of the elevator and into the room before them. It was big, coloured green and black, and was even shinier than the rest of Valhalla, if that was even possible. The room was dominated by a shiny, golden throne, inlaid with jewels and gemstones. 

 

Tony could just make out a figure seated on the throne, and he slowly, almost cautiously, made his way around to the front of the throne. The sight that greeted him was unlike any other he’d ever seen, and it was such a welcome thing that Tony almost began crying right there and then.

 

For seated on the throne, sketching what looked like flowers, was Loki. See, Tony and Loki, once upon a time, had been together. It didn’t last that long, because of Loki’s reputation and all who were after him, and because Tony had an image to uphold. And so Tony had returned to dating Pepper, not that she’d ever known he’d been with anyone else, but after all these years some small part of his heart had always yearned for the trickster god.

 

Then Loki glanced up, and he smiled, that intoxicating smile that Tony had fallen for all those years ago, and suddenly Tony had fallen again, harder and faster than the first time. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the god, now before him again. Dimly he understood why Loki had wanted to see him alone, and why Heimdall hadn’t come with him.

 

“Stark.” Loki’s voice was still as cool as ever, but there was a soft edge there that Tony had only heard a rare few times from the trickster.

 

“You can drop the formalities and call me Tony,” he replied almost instantly, somewhat self-conscious as he stood before the god.

 

“Tony, then,” Loki said softly, placing down his sketchpad and pencil to then push himself up off his throne. Hearing his name spoken by the mischievous god made Tony shiver slightly, and he barely restrained himself from throwing himself at Loki then and there to hold him and never let go. He shivered again as Loki stepped closer, eyes roaming over him, as if he were examining him. 

 

“You’re an artist now?” Tony asked, gesturing to the sketchpad and pencil that lay discarded on his throne. Loki turned to glance at it, looking momentarily confused before he spotted it.

 

“Ah, that. Yes, it’s a good way to get any feelings out,” Loki said in reply, his gaze seeming to soften more and more the longer it lingered on Tony. 

 

“Bet it looks beautiful, too,” Tony said, for some reason holding himself back from saying,  _ Just like you. _ Maybe he felt there was some invisible divide between them, a line he couldn’t dare to cross. What was more likely was Tony’s internal fear that Loki didn’t feel the same about him as he once had, that the feelings Tony still held onto weren’t the same on the god’s end. 

 

“Sometimes,” Loki agreed quietly, and was it Tony’s imagination or had he moved slightly closer? Then he felt Loki gently lift his chin with a hand, and Tony’s breath froze in his lungs. “Never nearly as stunning as you, though.”

 

“Yeah?” Tony breathed, trying to regain use of his lungs and vocal cords. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

 

Loki’s gaze flickered over his face, seeming to drink in the details. Tony wanted nothing more than to lean forward and close the gap between them, but he didn’t dare move, scared that if he did, Loki would move away from him and he’d lose the god again.

 

“Gods, I’ve missed you,” Loki breathed out, and Tony felt himself melting into the trickster’s touch. Then the god was leaning forwards, and the gap between them closed and Loki’s lips were on his and  _ god  _ he’d missed this. 

 

Tony kissed Loki as fiercely as he could, holding him so tightly, afraid that if he let go, the god would disappear for good. Loki was holding Tony just as tightly, pulling the shorter man right up against him as their lips moved in sync.

 

When they finally broke apart, neither let go of the other, Tony resting his head against Loki’s chest. He felt Loki slowly begin to run his hand through Tony’s hair, and he let out a small sigh, realising just how much he’d missed this; these moments with Loki, the softer side of the god that he seemed to rarely reveal.

 

It was moments like this that made Tony want to stay forever. Moments he didn’t want to end, moments he wished could last forever. Loki did eventually draw back, but his hands never left Tony; he kept one placed firmly on his hip and cupped Tony’s face with the other, his eyes darting back and forth across the shorter man’s face as if he could scarcely believe he was truly here. Tony smiled slightly, which earned him a small, soft smile from Loki in return. 

 

“I can’t believe it’s you,” Tony murmured after a moment.

 

“It’s me,” Loki replied softly. “And I’m here to stay, if you’ll have me.”

 

In response, Tony leaned forward to connect their lips for a moment. “I’m here to stay too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m still crying randomly over Endgame scenes in public (I was crying over Scott losing his taco in rehearsal yesterday I’m that pathetic) so I wrote this to try and stop my heart hurting and hey it’s helped.


End file.
